


smith's apprentice or lord

by fineosaur



Series: Arya x Gendry Week 2019 [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fix-It, Gendry is still legitimised, Marriage, after that, as from 8x03, axgweek2019, for Arya x Gendry week 2019, just let my children be married already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 02:50:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20202523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineosaur/pseuds/fineosaur
Summary: After the Battle of Winterfell, Arya’s vengeance still awaits her. However, she can’t leave without making a promise to the man she loves and hopes to return to.





	smith's apprentice or lord

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the prompt **"Marry Me Now"**

It was a conscious choice, to leave the feast early. Celebrating the defeat of the Night King didn’t mask all the lives lost along the way, it didn’t ease the voice in her head that listed _one last name_. All eyes had been on her, constantly, given that she was the one who held the blade that ended the Long Night. 

She hadn’t seen him yet, he was alive, that much she knew. Arya paced around the forge, fire had long died out and empty. She had come here with a particular blacksmith in mind, she couldn’t leave without at least one last goodbye.

After a long while of waiting, he appeared. “I’ve been looking for you.” Gendry told her, eyes studying her face. He rose his hand to her face, thumb lightly tracing the wound that marred her forehead before softly kissing the top of her head. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re the one who saved us all.”

”Still think I’d be safer in the crypts?” She tried joking, her voice just came out strained from the beginnings of a sob she hadn’t known she was holding back.

”I take everything I said back.” He held his hands up, bowing his head slightly before looking back up at her.

”I’m leaving.”

He didn’t respond immediately, first searching her face for more information. “Leaving where?” 

”I need to finish this, end it. I need to _kill Cersei_”

”That doesn’t mean you’re not coming back.”

”It could.”

He reached out and held her by the shoulders. “Promise me you’ll come back to me, that you’ll at least try.” Gendry tried, his deep blue eyes boring into hers. “Please?”

Arya pulled him into a kiss, the tears she was holding back finally rolled down her face. “Ride with me.”

Confusion spread across his face at her demand. “What?”

”Come with me to the Godswood. Marry me.”

”Wait. Uhh, The Queen. She named me Lord of Storm’s End.” He quickly tried to explain as she began to drag him away.

”Gendry _Baratheon_.” She looked in thought. “I don’t care who they say you are, where you are or will be, be it the Riverlands, the North or the Stormlands. This is my promise to you.”

Arya felt herself being whisked off her feet, his lips crashing into hers. “I love you, I’d marry you in a heartbeat.”

”Even if you were Gendry Waters, smith’s apprentice, I’d still marry you.” She said, kissing him again. “Come.”

The night air was brisk and biting but it sent waves of adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was hard not to spur through the woods on her horse, she kept her speed consistent with Gendry’s nontheless. The silence between them was heavy, the only sounds were the sounds of the earth and leaves beneath their horses’ hooves. Arya led him towards the weirwood she’d find her father at ever so often, recalling the red stained face carved into the white bone of the tree. The sound of her father’s whetstone gliding against Ice echoed in her mind. This would be a day where she wished her father was with her, that he’d escort her to Gendry, allowing him to shroud her in his cloak. She tried not to dwell on silly thoughts, thinking only of the joy she’d get from joining Gendry. There may have been a point in time where she’d lose appetite over the thought of becoming a Lord’s wife, she hadn’t known that would be the case when she first thought to marry Gendry. But this was _Gendry_, her childhood friend, the first boy, the first man she had ever loved and he never thought of her as Sansa’s type of Lady. To him, she may have been _’milady’_ but he always knew who she was, never once had he tried to change that. Perhaps that was her reason for being so keen on taking him as her husband, he knew her as no one else did and despite that, he still loved her. He didn’t care that she had hands as rough as a blacksmith’s, even going as far as to mock her on it _’those soft little things’_ he had said a lifetime ago. It didn’t matter to him that she didn’t sew well, that she never wore dresses. 

When they reached the weirwood, Arya climbed off her horse, allowing Gendry to do the same as he took in the eerie view of the tree. She stood and watched silently as he tilted his head, studying the weaving branches of the tree. “I know you don’t follow the Old Gods but I wanted to do this the way the First Men did.” Arya explained to Gendry, breaking the silence. “Also it’s a lot faster and you don’t need a septon.” She added, both of them laughing lightly.

”I never put much stock in the Seven, so if you prefer these ones, who am I to stand in the way of convenience?” They were both smiling, she knew he was as happy as she was, but the air of gloom still hung between them. She would still be leaving after this, there was still a high chance that Gendry would end up a widow even after all this. Arya took a few steps closer to Gendry, fresh and withered, red weirwood leaves crunched under her boots.

Arya took off her left glove and reached out to his face with her hand. She stroked the stubble that grew on his chin, feeling the warmth of his face. Gendry leaned down, his forehead touching hers as his blue eyes closed. She watched the look of peace spread across his face, his lips curved in a smile that crinkled the skin near his eyes. He was warm, she thought, a thought she chose to hold with her when she’d take her cold journey south. Her lips met his, softly. Before their kiss got too heated, Arya pulled away. “Are you sure you want to do this? You could be a widow within the next moon.” She asked him, she could see his breath cloud the cold air.

”I’d rather be a widow than know I let this chance go.” She kissed him again, his answer filling her with a warmth not usually felt on a winter night.

Arya spent the next minutes briefly explaining the ceremony to Gendry, when she was sure he understood, they both took their places in front of the tree’s face.

* * *

_’I take this man.’_ The echo of her own voice played in her head, drowning out the clopping sound of her horse’s hooves against the King’s Landing concrete. Arya let the thoughts of her and Gendry kneeling by the weirwood, hands joined, put her at peace. Her father’s voice was in her thoughts as well. _’If you’re going to own a sword, you better know how to use it.’_ She would use it, for him and for the last time she would tell death _’not today’_.


End file.
